


As We Run, We Become

by IBoatedHere



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Established Relationship, Getting Together, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Running, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-25 21:28:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7547839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IBoatedHere/pseuds/IBoatedHere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Jack wakes Bitty up to go running and one time he doesn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As We Run, We Become

**Author's Note:**

> Title is a quote from Amby Burfoot. 
> 
> Special thanks to Ava (marquislaf) for being my beta. You're wonderful.

Jack runs. 

Every morning. 

He doesn't care how early he needs to get up to get it done.

It’s part of his routine. It’s familiar, calming, predicable. It’s what he needs. 

When he’s home he runs with his father who can still keep up with him just fine.

His mother pushes a little harder. 

He’s glad for the company. 

At Samwell he’s alone.

Shitty turned around after the first mile. _“Lawyer, not a professional athlete. Keep going, brah, I believe in you!”_

Ransom and Holster made him feel a bit like a third wheel. They kept pointing out things that looked like other things and no matter how hard Jack tried he just couldn’t see the pigeon in that hunk of broken off asphalt. 

He asked Lardo once, out of desperation, and was laughed out of the Haus. 

Bittle’s the only one he hasn’t asked. 

They’re not the best of friends even though Jack thinks Bittle’s gotten over his freshman jitters and Jack isn’t as much of an asshole towards him. Still.

He likes to get going early and Bittle lives right across the hall. He knows he goes to bed late and likes to sleep in when he’s able.

If he has to get up early he’d rather be making pancakes for the team and singing along to a pop song in the shower then spending forty five minutes running with his moody Captain. 

But then he finds the cookies in his bag while he’s home for winter break. 

They’re a little broken but the handwritten note telling him to have a ‘swawesome break makes Jack feel very whole. 

He sets the cookies on the counter in the kitchen without an explanation and both his parents figure it out immediately. 

“These are from your teammate, aren’t they? The one that bakes?”

“The one you’re always talking about?”

Jack thinks he does more complaining about Bittle than talking about him. 

“Bittle. Yeah. He snuck them into my bag.”

Both his parents share a look. Fond smiles on their faces.

“I can’t eat them all myself so….”

His dad fills a bowl with them and eats them as he watches TV and his mom eats three of them as Jack helps her prepare dinner. 

Jack comes back to Samwell after break feeling as relaxed and renewed as his mind will let him. 

At 5:55 in the morning he knocks three times on Bittle’s door before he gets something that vaguely resembles a response from the other side. 

“Bittle?” He pushes the door open and pokes his head in. There's a lump of blankets on the bed that he's assuming he’s buried under. “Hey, Bittle.”

“What's the matter?” 

Jack still can't see his head and his voice is so muffled. He steps into the room and leaves the door open behind him in case he needs to make a quick retreat. 

“What time is it?” Bittle yanks the covers off his head and looks up at him through bleary eyes. His hair's sticking up and there are pillow lines running across his cheek. The collar of his Samwell sweatshirt is pulled up to his chin. He looks sweet and innocent and so young and Jack feels incredibly guilty for waking him. 

He's staring, he knows it, and Bitty looks more alert and starts to push himself up with one hand ready to throw back the covers, hop out of bed, and fix whatever’s wrong. Probably with pie. 

“Jack, is everything okay?”

“I wanted to know if you wanted to come running with me.” 

Bittle's jaw drops and after a few seconds he exhales a laugh and falls back onto the bed. 

“Are you serious?” 

“Yes.”

“What time is it?”

“Almost six.”

“Good lord. Why on earth would _you_ want to go running with _me?_ ”

The sting of rejection still hurts even though he was expecting it. 

“I was just asking. Sorry I woke you,” Jack mumbles and Bitty sticks his hand out from beneath the comforter. Jack’s too far away but he feels like he wants to step closer so Bitty can wrap his delicate fingers around his wrist and squeeze hard against his pulse. He leans forward but then Bitty drops his arm. 

“Isn’t it freezing out there?”

Jack shrugs. It’s all relative. 

“It’s not too bad.”

Bitty snorts. “That means nothing coming from you. You’d probably be in shorts right now if you didn’t think people would look at you funny.”

“There’s not a lot of people up at six.” 

Bitty cocks his head to the side.

“You can borrow a hat if you want.”

Bitty scrubs his hands over his face then throws the covers all the way back and swings his legs off the side of the bed. “Can you give me five minutes?”  
“Yeah, sure.”

Bitty stands and he starts to pull the sweatshirt over his head but he stops when he realizes Jack is still standing there watching him. 

“What are you…..are you going to watch me get dressed?”

Jack snaps to. “No, sorry, I didn’t mean to….I’ll be downstairs. Do you want a protein shake?”

“No.”

He makes one for him anyways.

Bittle comes down the stairs bundled in every jacket he owns. There’s a soft green beanie on his head with a matching scarf around his neck.

“You’re going to overheat,” Jack says as he hands over Bittle’s shake. 

Bittle takes a sip then pulls a face. “I’m going to freeze.” 

They bicker back and forth until Jack talks him into shedding a few layers and losing the scarf.

Bittle sucks in a huge breath when they get on the porch and the first blast of wind hits him. 

“I’m going to be a popsicle.”

“I know what I’m talking about, Bittle.” He stretches his arms over his head and watches as Bittle bounces up and down on his toes. “You’ll warm up quick. Now, let me know if you need me to slow down, okay? I don’t have a problem with it.”

Bittle smirks at him like he has no idea what Jack’s gotten himself into which is fitting.

Jack never knows what to expect from Bittle.

Bittle keeps pace until they hit the South Quad and then he takes off. 

Jack knew Bittle was fast on the ice but for some reason that’s where he thought it would stop. He never thought it would be this hard. 

Jack keeps up with him just fine until they cross the North Quad and then he hits a wall.

“You doing okay, Captain?” 

Bittle’s not even out of breath. Jack’s mouth tastes like metal.

Bittle runs backwards and says “You let me know if you need me to slow down, okay hun? I don’t have a problem with it.” 

“I’m fine.”

Bittle’s smile drops and he slows down considerably. “Are you sure?”

“I’m fine, Bittle, I swear it. Keep going.”

He smiles again. “No mercy?”

“No mercy.”

Bittle grins wickedly and takes off again. 

They make it back to the Haus, barely, with Jack collapsing back against the door and Bittle whistling as he takes off his hat and unzips his first layer.

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” Jack says between breaths. “You’re so quick on the ice, why did I think it would be any different off it?” 

Bittle leans against the wall and crosses his arms over his chest. 

“I don't know, Jack.”

“Bittle, I will never underestimate you again.”

“Whoa, high praise from our Cap.” Holster slaps Bitty on the back as he walks down the stairs. “What did you do to earn that?” 

Jack’s got his head between his knees when he hears Bittle say “I think I almost killed him.”

 

******

 

“Jack, no.”

“Bittle, please.”

“I cannot be your only option.”

“You kind of are. You're the only one that challenges me.”

“I can't believe my life,” he says from underneath the pillow. “It’s supposed to snow.”

“Not until later. They pushed it back. I just checked.”

Bitty groans.

“I’ll buy you a hot chocolate afterwards.”

That seems to do it. Or at least it loosens him up. Bittle lifts the pillow off his face but still clutches it to his chest. 

“I want a large.”

“Sure.”

“With extra whipped cream.”

It’s on the tip of Jack’s tongue to tell him how unhealthy it is but he swallows it back. “Fine.”

Bittle gets up, grumbling about being caught in a blizzard and Jack grabs a spare set of gloves out of his room just in case.

It smells like snow.

Jack breathes in deep as he stretches on the porch waiting for Bittle. 

The cold makes his lungs ache. 

It reminds him of his childhood.

Building snowmen with his mother and holding his father’s hands as he pulled him around on the frozen pond on their property. 

Before he really knew who his father was and who he had to be in return. 

Before worry started to creep into everything he did. 

“Oh Lord, Jack.” Bittle steps out behind him with his bare hands cupped to his mouth and peering up at the cloudy sky.

Jack hands the extra gloves over. “It’s not that bad.”

“Jack.”

“We can outrun it,” he says as he bounds off the deck.

_“Jack.”_

“You want hot chocolate or not?”

He smiles when he hears Bittle’s footsteps behind him. 

They’re at the end of the street when the first snowflake falls and Bittle huffs beside him. 

It falls more steadily after that. Bitty doesn’t grumble about it, just pulls his hat further over his ears and runs behind Jack so he can block the snow.

When Jack pulls him into Annie’s there’s already an inch on the ground.

Bittle doesn’t say anything, just shakes the snow off his shoulders and his hat. 

“It could be worse. A few years ago I was home and my dad and I went for a run. It was white out conditions. My mom said she was this close to calling the cops to form a search and rescue.”

He looks unimpressed as he looks at Jack then at the counter and back again.

“I’ll get your hot chocolate. Why don’t you get a table, maybe it’ll die down.” 

“Extra whipped cream.” 

_So bad for you._

Bittle downs his hot chocolate and Jack sips at his tea as they watch the snow pile up.

Plow go up and down the road and eventually one of the barista’s bundles up and starts to shovel and salt the walk.

Bittle has his legs crossed beneath the table and his foot moves lazily in the circle knocking against Jack’s shin each time it loops around. He has his chin in his hand and he sighs before he glances over at him and says “It’s not slowing down.”

“I know.”

“So now what? Do we just live here now?”

“There has to be an oven back there. That’s all you need, right?”

“Where will you skate?”

“I’ll tell them to stop shoveling the sidewalk. It’ll ice over.”

Bittle laughs and Jack smiles back at him. 

“You want to make a break for it? Sidewalks should be okay.”

“You also said it wasn’t going to snow until later.” But he’s standing and pulling his hat and Jack’s gloves back on. “I guess there are worse people to brave a blizzard with than an authentic Canadian.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s a blizzard.”

“I’m from Georgia. Everything is considered a blizzard. One time we got a dusting and they closed schools. There wasn’t even enough to make a snowball. It melted by noon. It was nice to have a day off, though.”

Jack slips twice on the way home. He manages to catch himself at the last second and after he assures Bittle he’s fine _(you need your legs for hockey, Jack, it’s not something you can do without them)_ Bittle laughs harder than he’s ever seen him. 

“I’m so sorry, Jack. But can you imagine the headlines? Jack Zimmermann cut down in his prime while walking his southern baker teammate home in a snowstorm.”

Jack straightens up and loosens his hold on the back of the bench where he caught himself. “I wouldn’t say I’m in my prime.”

He’s not a teenager anymore and in a lot of ways he’s thankful for it. 

But he’s not a wunderkind anymore.

Everytime someone on ESPN says his name he has to brace himself for the inevitable rundown of all his failures. 

He’s not breaking every record in the book with Kent by his side. 

He doesn’t hear Bittle laughing anymore and he looks up in time to see the last hint of his smile slip off his face.

Of course Bittle knows that weight behind his words. Everything he wasn’t supposed to hear between him and Parson…

And even before that. The whole campus knows who he is and what he’s done even if sometimes they’re wrong about it and think it’s worse than it really is. 

“Sorry,” he says but he wants to say _sorry, sometimes I say the wrong thing. Sometimes I’m selfish. I want too much. Sometimes I miss that life and wish I was still living it even though I almost let it end me. I love it here. This team might be the best thing that’s ever happened to me. What can I do to make you laugh again?_

“Sorry,” he says again and kicks at the snow. It packs down beneath his shoe. 

Bittle looks like he doesn’t know what to say. Jack also notices that his cheeks are red and there are huge snowflakes clumping on his eyelashes. 

“You don’t have to apologize,” he says. “But I wish you-” He cuts himself off and shakes his head. “It’s okay.”

They stand together, snow falling around them. A plow goes down the street but after that it’s quiet and the only thing Jack can hear is the sound of the flakes hitting the fabric of his coat. 

He pushes the snow at his feet into a pile and ignores how cold his toes are.

“You know when I was a kid my dad and I used to get into some pretty epic snowball fights.”

“Don’t you even think about it.”

“What?”

“I know what you’re trying to do.”

Jack bends down and gathers some snow into his hands then packs it into a ball. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

When he looks back up Bittle is halfway across the quad but he’s having a hard time running in the snow.

Jack gets within range fast and the snowball hits Bittle’s back just below his shoulder.

Bittle rallies and gives as good as he gets and by the time the snow finally begins to taper off they’re both flushed and panting and Jack hasn’t felt this young or good in years. 

Bittle’s hat came off somewhere in the middle of the quad and his hair is dark and wet and Jack takes off his hat and plops it onto of Bittle’s head. 

Bittle tugs it down the rest of the way and knocks his shoulder into Jack’s.

Nursery and Dex are shoveling the sidewalk outside the Haus when they get back.

“Working on dibs?”

Nursey smacks Dex’s arm. “Told you we were being transparent as fuck.”

“Ho-ly shit. Thank fuck.” Shitty bursts out the front door in nothing but a pair of boxers with a snowflake pattern on them. “What the fuck happened to you guys?”

“We went for coffee,” Bittle says, putting on an air of innocence.

“You went for coffee for four hours in a fucking blizzard?”

“It wasn’t snowing when we left,” Jack tells him and Shitty clings to both of them once they get up the steps. 

“I thought you fucking died.”

“You didn’t come looking for us?”

“What the fuck do you think those two are doing?” He points to Dex and Nursey. “They’re clearing a path for me to get to you. I cannot believe how fucking close I came to having to tell Bad Bob and Alicia Zimmermann that I let their kid wander off in a blizzard and get lost. And Jesus fuck, your mom, Bits. She’s small but I get the feeling she’d kick my ass from here to Harvard. Holy shit. Get your asses inside right now.”

 

*******

 

He pushes himself. 

His legs and lungs are burning and all he can hear is his heart beating and his feet slapping the pavement and he doesn't care that his vision is slowly starting to double.

Bittle asked him if he wanted to take today off. He can’t afford to, not now, not after a loss that should have been his final collegiate win. 

He shook his head and said “I don’t need you to go with me, I can go on my own” and was fully aware of how cold and distant he was being to the boy who has shown him nothing but warmth. 

When Jack woke up this morning he could still feel lithe arms around him and hot tears at his neck. 

Bittle had shook his head and said “I’ll be right down” then didn’t wait for Jack to step out of the doorway before he turned and pulled his shirt over his head so he could change.

Jack only left when Bittle had turned to look at him over his bare shoulder. 

Now he wants to run forever and he thinks he could. Right now it’s one of the only things he has control over. One foot in front of the other. He wants to put as much distance as he can between him and the Haus. Keep breathing in and out. He wants distance between him and the whole campus. Keep going. He can’t turn around and face the disappointment he’s caused. One foot in front of the other.

A different kind of guilt hits him when he realizes he forgot Bittle was running beside him.  
It’s not until he feels fingers clutching at his side and his arm does he actually hear him.

“Jack, can we slow down, please, just for a second, I just need-.”

Jack skids to a stop.

He makes a grab for Bitty so he doesn’t collide into him too hard then takes a few steps away.

Bittle’s bent over with his hands on his knees trying to catch his breath and Jack doesn’t understand why he can’t stop hurting the people he cares about.

“I just need a second,” Bitty wheezes and Jack’s chest feels painfully tight as Bitty lowers himself down to the edge of the curb and rests his forehead on his knees. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Jack sits an arms length away from him. 

“What was that?” Bitty’s trying to laugh and take deep breaths at the sametime. He tilts his face so he can look over at Jack. “Gosh, you’re like a machine.”

“Like a robot.” Jack says quietly.

Bitty’s hand crosses the gap as his palm slides over Jack’s knee. “No, Jack. Not like that.”

“I wanted to win.”

“I know. We all did.”

Jack shakes his head. “It’s different for me. It’s more. When something doesn’t go the way I want it to I just….” he trails off and watches Bittle’s thumb move up and down along the outside of his knee. “I should be used to it by now because nothing is ever easy with me.” He covers Bitty’s hand with his own and the small gasp he makes is out of rhythm with the ones he’s been taking to catch his breath. “It’s never going to be easy,” he says again, slower this time hoping that Bitty catches on to what he means. Whatever this is. Whatever makes you seek me out and try to help- you should stop. Before you’re in too deep. 

Bitty turns his hand over so they’re palm to palm and miraculously it’s not too much for Jack. 

“Do you want to go home or do you want to keep going?”

Bittle's not a quitter. He put up with months of checking practice. He dealt with a concussion. He keeps coming back for more. Jack respects that but he also wishes he would just give up on him. 

“Let's keep going,” Jack says, finally, and Bittle squeezes his hand once before he's up and running. 

 

******

 

Jack doesn’t get a response when he knocks on Bittle’s door. 

He worries and swings it open to reveal an empty room and an already made bed.

“Are you ready to go?” 

Bittle’s standing at the end of the hallway looking at him. 

He’s wearing shorts and a hoodie and flip flops. 

“You’re not dressed.” 

He’s also holding two pastries wrapped in waxed paper. He holds both of them out to Jack as he steps closer.

“Sure I am. Cherry or apple?”

“You can’t run in flip flops.”

“Well then it’s a good thing we’re not running today. Go get your camera.”

“What?”

“Your camera. If I have to listen to you say how nice the light looks this early in the morning one more time I’m going to push you in the river. Or at least I’m going to try. You know some people say walking is better exercise than running anyways.”

“Who says that?”

“Just people, Jack. Now go get it. Don’t you have a project coming up that you should be working on?”

Jack told him that awhile ago. He doesn't know why he’s surprised that he remembered. 

“This one is apple with a salted caramel sauce. I'm out of maple. Sorry.”

Jack takes it then goes to get his camera then follows Bittle as he leisurely walks out the door. 

The light is great and the campus is silent save for a few bicyclists and the screech of tires from a car taking a corner too fast a few streets over. 

Jack stops a lot but Bitty doesn’t seem to mind. 

It's like he knows Jack is seeing this place for the last time. It'll never be like this again, just him and his teammate walking around where the only short term worry is having enough decent photos to put in his portfolio. 

Bittle licks bright red cherry filling off his fingers as he leans against the railing of the bridge and before he can stop himself Jack is taking a shot of it.

Bitty freezes with his hand halfway to his mouth. “Real nice, Jack.”

“Sorry. I can delete it.”

“No, wait,” he leans in with a slightly sticky hand on his forearm to take a look at it on the small screen. “I like it. Keep it. You don’t have to use it for anything but you don’t have to delete it.”

After everything fell apart.

After Kent and the draft and the overdose he sat in a small, cold room across from a therapist who told him there’s more to life than hockey.

Jack had nodded and tried to be present for the rest of the session and then immediately asked his parents for a new one, one that better understood who he was as a person.

He loves hockey. He loves his parents. He loves his teammates. 

Sometimes he struggles with the order.

He shows Bittle another photo he took weeks ago of a goose getting ready to chase Shitty and when Bittle’s laugh echos across the empty campus he thinks maybe he’s starting to figure it out. 

He might be adding another name to the list. 

It’s possible hockey isn't going to be in the top three.

He waits for the panic. To not be able to breathe or think about anything but disappointing everyone he cares about. 

Bittle clicks through the photos. 

Bittle hand feeding a hungover Holster a slice of pie. 

Looking at a painting at Lardo’s art show with his head tipped to the side. 

Standing behind the glass at Faber with his head bent down to look at his phone. 

Trying to talk Chowder and Dex out of sitting directly on the green couch. One hand on his hip, the other holding a blanket, his lip between his teeth drawn in with concern. 

Sitting with his feet in the sand at the edge of the pond. Knees bent with his arms wrapped around them, smiling at something Chowder is saying. 

Laughing as Holster and Shitty jam him in a hockey bag. It's out of focus because Jack was laughing when he took it. 

Bittle, Bittle, Bittle. 

Bittle doesn't say anything about it. He smiles up at Jack then let's him have his space again and Jack feels the loss. 

Panic isn't coming. 

Not about this. 

He can't breathe but that's only because Bitty is leaving him breathless. 

Bittle is ten feet ahead of him and looking over his shoulder. 

“You coming?”

Jack nods and starts after him. 

 

*******

 

“Bittle,” Jack sits on the edge of the bed and gently shakes his shoulder. “Wake up.”

“Jack. Early. Vacation. You came down here to relax.”

“I came down here to see you.”

Jack flew into Atlanta yesterday afternoon and this has been the longest they’ve been able to be alone together. 

Mrs. Bittle- _Suzanne, please Jack_ \- had sat him down at the kitchen table with a thick slice of coffee cake and a glass of milk and asked question after question about graduation and Providence and what his new teammates are like. Jack was happy to ramble on. A little awkward and stilted. He knows real comfort won't come for a long time, if ever. 

But Bittle helped him keep the conversation going, filling in where Jack couldn't- the hand on his knee trailing slowly up his thigh then back down again was a distraction that made him tongue tied a few times and all Bittle could do was smirk in response. 

He slept in the spare room. 

“Coach uses it as an office too but he won’t use it at all this weekend so it’s all yours,” Bitty explained when he opened the door. His bags were lined up on a futon that was already pulled out. Jack had nodded, tucked his fingers into the fabric of Bittle’s shirt, and reeled him in for a kiss. “Too long,” he mumbled against Bitty’s lips.

It had been 46 days since they kissed and Jack never wanted to go that long again. 

“I know.”

“Skype isn’t enough.”

“I know.”

“I want more.”

“I know.” But he put some distance between them then said “But my parents room is right between us. The floor boards squeak and honestly I don’t know if I’d be able to keep quiet.”

Jack groaned and pressed his face into Bitty’s neck. “You can’t say that. It’s all I’m going to be thinking about.”

“Good,” Bittle, has said with a wicked smile and kissed him so softly, softer than he'd ever been kissed. “Have a good night, honey. I'll see you in the morning.” 

Jack avoided the creaky floorboards and snuck into Bitty's room, heart swelling at the sight of him in his bed. 

“Run?”

“Sweetheart, you might know everything there is to know about living up north but I am the king of the south and I'm gonna tell you there's no running in Georgia in July.”

“It's early. It can't be too bad.”

Bitty laughs, bright and clear, and runs his hands up Jack's arms with his fingers dipping beneath the sleeve of his t-shirt. “My dear, sweet, boy.”

“Just around the block?” He leans down and presses a kiss to the corner of his lips. “A short run?” Another kiss that drags across his cheek. “Come outside with me.” 

Bitty sighs and wraps his arms around Jack’s neck. “You’re gonna die out there, Jack Zimmermann and then the Falconers will sue me.”

“Then come with me and keep me safe.”

“You’re going to step on fire ants I just know it.”

Jack pouts and Bittle rolls his eyes. 

“This is a new relationship but I want you to know that's not going to work forever.”

Forever. There's gonna be a forever for them, he already knows it. 

“Get up, let me get dressed.” 

Jack leans off of him enough for him to get up and Jack collapses down onto the bed and the warmth Bitty left behind. 

Bitty pulls his shirt over his head and Jack watches him. He makes a broken noise in the back of his throat when Bitty's hands curl around the waistband of his threadbare cotton pants to slide them off. 

“You've seen me in less, Jack.”

“It's different now.”

Bittle kisses him until Jack is curling his fingers into his hair and trying to slot him between his thighs. 

Bittle pulls away until just enough to look him in the eyes. 

“You wanna run, we're gonna run. Get up.”

Twenty minutes later Jack is sure he’s going to die in Madison, Georgia. 

The air is thick and he feels like he's barely moving through it. 

“I told you,” Bittle pants. His hair is stuck to his forehead with sweat. “I told you so.”

Jack waits until they're out of eyesight of any of the houses before he grabs at Bitty and backs him against the nearest tree off the side of the road and kisses him. 

“There had better not be poison ivy against this tree, Jack.”

“Don’t care.”

Their legs are starting to itch by the the time they get back to the house and as Suzanne puts a bottle of Calamine Lotion and some cotton balls on the table in front of them she says “Honestly, Dicky, you’d think you’d know better than to brush up against this stuff.”

“Sorry Nama.” He raises an eyebrow at Jack then pulls his hands away from his legs so he stops scratching. “I got distracted.”

 

*******

 

Jack finds his tie by the front door and coils it around his hand. 

As soon as he and Bitty walked through last night it was off. Bitty had been working on it in the back of the car on the way home. 

Partition rolled up, Bitty's knees bracketing his thighs, Jack's mouth running up and down his neck. Bittle giggling and telling him it was just like the song.

_“What song?”_

_“Sweetheart. I’ll play it for you later, don’t worry about it, keep going.”_

Bittle's jacket is in the kitchen. Jack’s is in the living room on top of the coffee table. 

Shoes and socks down the hallway. 

Jack’s pants are at the end of the bed. He doesn't know where Bittle's are. 

Bittle is in bed lying on his stomach with his arms thrown under the pillow.

In the early morning light Jack can see a mark he left right below his ear. 

Jack has his own low on his throat. 

Bittle’s dark summer tan has begun to fade leaving behind a faint brush of freckles across the tops of his shoulders and the back of his neck. 

Last night Jack traced them all with his lips and the tips of his fingers. 

Jack wants to wake him just to ask him if he can believe that his is real. That they get to have this. _Bits, you don't understand. This was for other people. My parents. You. You deserve this but it was never for me. Do you know how much I love you? How much I'm going to love you?_

Bittle stretches and curls himself around the pillow before his eyes blink open. 

“Why are you up?” His voice is still rough with sleep. 

“Alarm went off.”

“Are you going for a run?”

Jack hesitates and lets his eyes wander down Bittle’s spine. The bed’s still warm where he left it. 

“I was thinking about it.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

_No. Stay right there. Forever. Don’t move._

Instead Jack shakes his head and puts one knee up on the bed so he can lean over and kiss the back of his neck, across his shoulder, the mark beneath his ear. He has a hand flat on his back, Bittle arches up into it, makes a satisfied humming noise, and Jack’s mind is made up.

He slides beneath the covers and pulls Bittle towards him, tucking the top of his head beneath his chin.

Their legs tangle.

Bittle has one hand between their chests and the other winds around Jack’s back, pressing him closer. 

“You’re skipping a run?” Bittle’s lips brush the hollow of his throat as he talks. “You feel okay?”

Jack takes a deep breath into Bittle’s hair and rubs his thumb along the curve of his shoulder. 

“I feel great.”


End file.
